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IT was a Highland chieftain's son
Gazed sadly from the hill:
And they saw him shrink from the autumn wind,
As its blast came keen and chill.
His stately mother saw, - and spoke
With the heartless voice of pride;
"T'is well I have a stouter son
The border wars to ride."
His jealous brother saw, and stood,
Red-haired, and fierce, and tall,
Muttering low words of fiendish hope
To be the lord of all.
But sickly Allan heard them not,
As he looked o'er land and lea;
He was thinking of the sunny climes
That lie beyond the sea. 2
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